


So the Story Says

by monsterradio



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Dragon Natasha, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Steve, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Steve's father is a dick, Wood Elf Clint, alexander pierce is a dick, alpha bucky, dragon Bucky, fairy steve, mentioned clint/natasha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 18:57:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20232748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monsterradio/pseuds/monsterradio
Summary: A prophecy once said that a warrior with scales for skin and fire for breath would tie with a prince of a kingdom so vast it spanned half the land.Alpha King of Dragons, James, thought it was just a story whispered around a fire until a crow came from the kingdom of Shield, hailing the coming of age of their Omega heir.





	So the Story Says

There had once been a prophecy about the kingdom of Shield and the City of Dragons. A bedtime story of how a legendary warrior with scales for skin and fire for breath would be tied to the prince of a kingdom so great that it spanned half the land. Young James Barnes grew up on that story, even after his dragon mother was slain and his human father had fallen not long after to heartbreak, he and his sister Natasha knew the story like they knew the skies.  
  
However, they didn’t believe it to be true. No crowning kingdom would give up their prince to a dragon, there were stories about princesses being stolen and eaten by the beasts instead of laying with them. But, however insane it sounded, the story was a staple in growing up, it was told around bonfires and when Natasha and James couldn’t sleep. It was written in the stars, said their mage, Kobik, and one day it would come true. She had always been a fan of fairy tales, so James and Natasha assumed it was just that.  
  
Until a crow arrived with a small scroll of paper attached to one leg, cawing insistently and demanding attention. Kobik brought it to the siblings in the meeting tent, curious as ever, even as Natasha raised both eyebrows when she looked the slip of paper over.  
  
“It would appear as if the kingdom of Shield is celebrating their Omega heir’s coming of age. They know of the story too, it seems. It says that the Alpha King of Dragons may come court the little prince at a ball.”  
  
James had stared at his sister as he lounged on the low stone chair, wings draped over the back, one leg kicked up over an arm, “A ball,” he echoed, flatly.  
  
“I could go in your stead, brother, it does just say Alpha King, and the prophecy never did specify if it was to be you or me that ties with the princeling,” her eyebrow was raised, looking at her brother with amusement.   
  
She wasn’t lying either, their custom allowed for both siblings to be “Alpha Kings” despite Natasha being a woman. If the Omega prince chose to come with him, the boy would become an Omega King, no Queen or Prince. The rulers of the City of Dragons were all dubbed King, though no one knew exactly where it started. If Natasha so desired, she could go and claim herself to be the one the prophecy spoke of.   
  
James growled, baring his teeth at her, “This is my Star chosen path, sister, you won’t take this from me.”  
  
“I wouldn’t,” she replied easily, “I have no desire to. My Star path hasn’t made itself clear yet, why would I want someone else’s”  
  
James replied only with a sigh, “This is my one chance to claim him, then, I suppose. We must go, we have only a few days before the prince’s birthday.” He stood with a fluid motion, "Saddle three horses, we ride in an hour."  
  
~~~  
  
That was how James found himself wading through a packed ballroom, filled to the brim with billowing dresses and posturing Alphas. Omegas tittered behind fans and delicate hands while Alphas, mated or not, side-eyed each other in barely restrained distrust. The ball was crowded and too formal and James didn't feel comfortable at all.   
  
Feeling like he was going into battle, he'd worn the armor he came in, the worn crosshatch of his leather chest piece, his mismatched pauldrons over his mismatched shoulders and his thick leather leggings and a wrap of rabbit fur on a belt of golden medallions. His half cape, created by Natasha cutting up the pretty red drapes in her room, was pinned in a draping manner to the backs of his leather pauldrons, hiding the plating along his spine where his leather wings were kept out of sight. His horns gleamed in the firelight, bright and shiny due to the scrubbing he gave them only an hour before, not to mention the gold rings that were settled asymmetrically along the ridged black bone. His hair, which usually cascaded down a small ways past his shoulders if it was left loose, was braided in an artful way back between his horns and around them, golden chains wound within the plaits. His eyes were smudged in khol, accenting the bright blue-gray, his lips thin as he tolerated the hypocritical people of the Kingdom of Shield. His tail, wrapped in the decorative golden rope between the three hardened bone spines at the base of his tail and the four smaller spines and the larger second spine, twitched, shivered and he barely restrained a growl when someone bumped into him.   
  
Natasha was gliding along behind him in a beautiful cotton dress, given to her by a servant, he believed. The torso of the dress was tight against her skin, the neckline modest against her breast, the sleeves were long but the back was low, down to her middle back. James suspected she had it altered for the wing plating along her spine since the hem was even and neat. Her scarlet hair was braided neatly around her horns, bands of silver around the gentle elegant slight twists, plaited with silver chains instead of Bucky's gold. The skirt of her dress brushed the floor and she stepped silently in her worn leather knee-high boots, a pleat in the right side sliced from mid-thigh down to reveal her strong legs, as well as a strip of leather around her thigh with a row of small knives. Her tail remained hidden under her dress and unseen by the crowd.  
  
He could feel Lord Rogers' glare on him from the dais ahead of them where the throne sat, the elder Alpha leaning sideways with his head in his hand as if he were watching a mildly entertaining fool. He could feel the judgmental looks from those around him, seemingly offending them with just his mere presence and his attire.  
  
He made his way to the dais, Natasha at his left side, and stood at the base of the steps without a glance to Lord Rogers. He didn't want that man's attention and didn't care if he was liked. He was only here for one thing.  
  
The doors opened at the top of the stairs on the other side of the dais and the prince, Prince Steven, the only Rogers heir stepped through in a billowing dress of sky blue, scattered in pink flowers, not unlike the bouquet of flowers Bucky cradled in the crook of his left elbow. His expression reminded James of someone being lead to an Executioner, not entering a ballroom, the scent falsely sweet and nearly cloying even from the bottom of the stairs. The torso of the dress was a beautiful white lace, decorated in shiny jewels and more pink flowers. He began the descent and James barely breathed as he came closer, the skirt, longer in the back it seemed, cascaded down the steps like water in a brook, gentle and silent.  
  
James moved to the base of the stairs and he watched the prince hesitate, glance towards his blond companion from eyes lined delicately in blue coloring, before continuing his slow and steady steps. The prince's wings fluttered behind him, three sets of slim royal blue that faded into clear, the edges were jagged in a way that suggested they grew unevenly, and his hair ruffled with the gentle breeze it created.   
  
James thought he was beautiful.   
  
"My prince," James said as the pretty Omega reached the bottom of the stairs and the prince hesitated again, "you look lovely. More beautiful than the skies at twilight from the mountain top. But you don't smell like you're excited about this ball."  
  
"Keep your nose to yourself, Warlord Barnes," the prince snapped, wings flaring briefly.  
  
The Alpha smiled, a small twitch of his lips and his tail twitched by his legs. "My nose tells me stories, my young prince, I need it to read the room."  
  
"My scent shouldn't matter to you."  
  
"You are the very reason I'm here, the only reason, Omega Mine, your scent matters the most to me."  
  
The prince glared at him, but then his scent sharpened into honey-sweet and his expression turned into one of discomfort as he pressed his hand to his stomach. He turned towards the elf at his side and whimpered, a sound that made his Alpha instinct want to curl around the hurting Omega and sooth them. He stepped forward and the elf set his hand on his blade hilt and give him a pointed look.   
  
"My Lord Rogers," the Elf called the short distance and the King lifted his head to look at them, "His Highness is close to his time. Having this many Alphas in one place may trigger it and cause a scene."  
  
James blinked, blinked again and looked at Natasha. She conveyed the same worry with her eyes.   
  
The prince was close to his _Heat.  
  
_Natasha stepped up a little closer to James, whispering furiously in their mother-tongue, [_"You need to stay close to him, brother. He's yours by birthright, the prophecy, if you allow another to claim him-"]  
  
_"He'll be fine," Lord Rogers said with a dismissive wave and the prince whimpered softly. "Really, Steven, you're causing a scene," he sniffed.  
  
"Do you often make your Omega son suffer through a Heat while attending a party?" James asked frostily and Lord Rogers squinted at him, lips turned down.  
  
"When I deem it necessary, Warlord Barnes, however, your questions are not," he replied, "You are a guest in my kingdom, don't try my patience or you'll find yourself on the other side of my walls. _Without_ what you came for."  
  
James grinned with too many teeth, "I'd really love to see your guards throw an adult dragon on his ass. I'd invite you to try but that would ruin the festivities."  
  
"If the Alphas are done posturing, I'd like to get this over with," the Prince snapped out.  
  
James snorted and smoke puffed from his nostrils before he turned and offered his bouquet to him and Steven paused, considered before taking them slowly.  
  
"Where on earth did you get these?" His prickly attitude seemed to disappear for a moment, taking the flowers with a soft smile.   
  
"In the market," James replied and Steven looked at him sharply.   
  
"Our market?" He sounded almost afraid of what the Warlord would say, head ducking slightly as shame seemed to burn his ears"  
  
"Aye," James hummed and Steven looked a little horrified.  
  
"I'm sorry you had to see that."  
  
James leaned a little closer, dropping his tone, "I'm glad I did, it gives me another reason to hate your father just a little bit more."  
  
"Don't let him hear that," Steven said in return, though his lips twitched back into a smile.  
  
"Really," James said, no longer whispering, "any king who sits on his ass while his people starve in the streets and young Omegas fall victim to the very guards that are supposed to be guarding them, I believe it's a broken kingdom." A few people looked sharply at him, a few Omegas hurrying away from the older king, whispers already starting up amongst the circles.  
  
"You may lose your head for saying things like that," Steve said and James shrugged his shoulders at him, "and I quite like your head where it is.  
  
"I like where it is too," James agreed with a sideways grin with too many teeth, "I have every faith in my survivability and, should he try to harm me in this moment of peace, his kingdom will fall."  
  
"Will I fall too?" Steve asked him quietly, settling the flowers on the throne settled a staggered pace behind Joseph's own.  
  
"No, my flower," James replied when Steve stepped back into his space, "You'll be safe in my tent back in the City, with a cup of the finest wine my people can find."  
  
"Oh, is that right?" Steve teased.  
  
"Or If you like, on a horse of your own, leading your own battalion to storm the gates and save any Omegas you may find."  
  
"I feel like there's another 'or' in there," Steve said, watching him.   
  
"Or you may be upon my back, feeling my scales beneath your hands, the wind through your hair, every wingbeat and the hot flames licking at your skin as you tell me where to fly."  
  
"You have many ideas," the blond hummed.  
  
"I do," James replied, offering his flesh hand to Steven, his left arm, the one made of cursed silver scales, held behind his back.  
  
"Most of them involve destroying my home, however, and I'm not so sure I enjoy the thought."  
  
"Not your home," James assured, "Your father in specific." And Steve rolled his eyes, good mood, for the moment, disappearing as discomfort warred over his face and his scent sharpened into honey sweet.  
  
James lead him down the four steps from the dais and onto the smooth stone and the crowd parted. Alphas sniffed and made sounds of interest while Omegas curled their lips and hissed comments and quiet insults and James bared his teeth at each one.  
  
“Why do you have wings?” James asked him quietly, curious, “Your father doesn’t have them, there's no point to his ears. The only magic I feel is from you and your bodyguard. Your father’s shadow seems to have it too.”  
  
“Pierce? Ha,” Steve scoffed, “No, my father and he hate magic. My friend was found by my mother at a young age, and I originally didn’t have wings, but my ears were pointed and I had magic. My mother was a child of the fae, but when she died my father turned resentful to magic. He stripped my friend of his magic and when my wings started growing, he tried to cut them off.”  
  
James snarled under his breath, “The more you speak of him, the more I hate him.”  
  
“They grew back, not to worry,” Steve assured, “But no, any magic was banned from the land, anyone with magic ability is exiled or killed.” There was a pause when they had to wait for a group to pass. “What about you? What about your arm?”  
  
The Alpha let out a grumble, and he lifted the mentioned hand to look at it, turning it over to look at the silver scales and conical claws. “A weasel warlock named Zola captured me when I was young,” he started, “He was trying to use me as a vessel, I suppose, for his dark god. Natasha and Kobik, our mage, managed to find me before the spell was complete, but it had taken over my arm by that time, fucked my head over. I have, moments where it feels like something else is in my head.”  
  
“I’m glad your sister got you out of there. Did you have your horns and wings and things?”  
  
“Born with those,” James replied, “Technically my whole City is dragons, but we’re the only true Dragonborn. However, we all have magic. You’d be at home in my City, I think. You and your friend.”  
  
Steve shot him a smile out of the corner of his eye like he liked the sound of that, "Do you know the Minuet?" Steven asked as the music changed into a light tune.  
  
"No," James answered honestly and Steve sighed with a roll of his eyes.  
  
"As much as I'd like to tell you to fuck off so I can find a dance partner who knows this dance, you're the only Alpha I trust to be this close to me right now. I don't like any of these knotheads and I know if I slip, you'll defend me. I am what you came for, after all, I'd be rather disappointed if those tales of brutish Alphas gutting others because they looked at their mate wrong was all talk."  
  
"Trust me, it's not all talk, Prince Steven," James assured, "The only time we do not defend our mates is if we're dead. Until then, we use everything in our power to defend those we love."  
  
"Steve is fine, Warlord Barnes. I imagine you'll be my husband by the weeks end if my father's plan goes well, you may as well call me by my name." He paused in the middle of the ballroom in plain view of the throne and turned to face James, pulling his arm away. "Bow to me, just a bend at the waist," he instructed and made a low curtsey, dress pooling on the floor in a great puddle. James followed the direction, putting his left at his back and his right across his stomach and bowed slowly. "Good, now turn around and bow again."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Just do it," Steve hissed, turning around. James sighed and followed his lead, bowing slowly. When he turned back around, Steve grabbed his flesh hand and turned to face Lord Pierce and the crowd stepped back a little. "Follow my steps, it's not that hard. This dance is French and is supposed to be light and simple, nothing fancy."  
  
"I don't do _light_, Steve," James snorted and Steve rolled his eyes, started to step forward. He did an odd little half bend of his knees nearly every other step, his skirt held gently with his free hand, but it was slow and James stepped evenly, stride sure and powerful.   
  
"Now you're going to show me off, stay right here and kind of lead me in a half-circle." James nodded, watching the crowd through narrowed eyes as Steve stepped daintily around in his half-circle. "Now we pass each other, four paces away. We circle each other, pass, circle, pass."  
  
"This dance is stupid; I'll show you dancing and it's none of this pussyfooting around each other," James growled softly and Steve snorted, lips curled up into a smile. Steve let go of James’ hand and moved his four little paces and James, grumbling, did the same, they moved towards each other, passing each other and Steve didn't have to imagine the way James' eyes lingered on him, the way his hands lifted to try and reach for him. They moved their four paces again to the outside of the circle and Steve danced lightly around the edge while James kept his stride even and sure, his eyes never leaving Steve. When Steve glanced up, he didn't have to imagine the desire curling in James' gaze.  
  
They moved back forward, passing with an arm's length between them and a low growl had started in James' throat, possessive and dangerous and Steve whimpered quietly, scent turning honey-sweet while James' smelled like smoke and winter and metal. As they moved away from one another, the Dragonborn's wings shifted coming from under the red cape, showing off the dark bones and the darker membranes. He made a motion to the redhead with his silver hand and, while she disappeared into the crowd, he turned to face Steve again, a sharp-toothed grin settled on his face.   
  
A drumbeat rang, sharp and out of place among the string instruments and everyone stopped and turned to find Natasha settled on a violinist's chair, a wide drum in her lap. If not for the musician beside her, you would have thought she belonged there as she started tapping out a steady rhythm with a loud downbeat and a softer uptake. One, two, three; One, two, three.   
  
James' back snapped straight, a loud stomp hitting on the downbeat that echoed over the murmuring crowd. He stepped forward, dragged his toe, step, drag, and Steve watched him, curious before matching him, meeting him in the middle. James lifted his right hand, elbow crooked and fist raised and Steve blinked at him.  
  
"Put your forearm against mine, fist closed. It's my turn to show you my dance." Steve smirked and lifted his arm to match James and the dragon murmured for them to turn, slowly and didn't break eye contact. He moved his arm, gently tapping Steve's arm with the silver arm, the flesh one then finally the silver one, now facing the other way, "do like I did, on the beat and we'll go the other way."   
  
Steve followed the direction, right left right and they turned the other way for six beats then James took Steve's hand, lifting it and twirling him around and Steve laughed brightly as they ended up with their backs to each other, just barely touching, and James took his other hand, lifted both arms over their heads and he did an odd little twist of his hips that had Steve cracking into laughter.   
  
"What are you _doing_?" Steve giggled as, while their arms were up, James turned them to face each other, wings flaring high. He could feel Steve's wings match his own, twitching with excitement even as the people muttered around them in barely contained horror. Joseph's eyes burned against them but for once, both of them didn't seem to notice or care.  
  
"Usually we'll be doing this at night and around a fire," James said with a smirk, "and you wouldn't be wearing anything that _big_," he teased, lacing their fingers and moving his hips in a slow swivel to the beat as he brought their arms down.  
  
"What_ would_ I be wearing, Alpha?"  
  
"Traditional armor for a bride," James replied, spinning Steve again and bringing him against his chest, his hands on Steve's slim waist and using the gentle grip to guide Steve's hips to the beat, a slow move down with a bend at the knees and then back up. "Feel the beat, let it match with your heart," he murmured into Steve's ear, "usually there are about four other drums too, a few chantings, a few wind instruments. It's a celebration dance. It's beautiful to watch but even more fun to participate in."  
  
"I'll have to-" he gasped shortly and his scent turned honey sweet again and he dropped his head back against James' shoulder, suddenly breathing hard, "take your word for it."  
  
James growled under his breath and his grip on Steve's hips turned possessive as he turned his head into Steve's neck and inhaled deeply. To the beat of Natasha's drum, he still moved his hips, left to the right and back in a steady motion, "Your Heat, Omega mine, it's starting."  
  
"I know, fuck, thought I had more time."  
  
"What do you need me to do?"  
  
There was a growl from his left and he lifted his head to see an Alpha stepping forward, eyes dark and a not so subtle bulge in the front of his leggings. James bared his teeth in a feral sounding growl, wings flaring high. The Alpha growled again, but backed up, looking put out.  
  
"Get me to my room, Warlord."  
  
"Brace," he said, then shifted his hands and swept Steve up into his arms, lifting him bridal style. Steve wriggled in his arms, whimpered softly and James growled, shook his head and started walking towards the stairs.  
  
"Prince Barnes," Lord Rogers said sharply, and the drumbeat stopped, "what are you doing?"  
  
"I'm taking His Highness to his room unless you wish to start a frenzy by keeping him around. I will gladly kill to protect him and you seem to like quite a bit of these men."  
  
Joseph leaned over to the other side, eyeing them with such contempt they could almost taste it in the air, "He's here to choose a husband and mate, Prince. He stays until he-"  
  
"I choose Barnes as my Alpha," Steve said sharply, though slightly breathless, "I don't trust these idiots and he's the only one who has everything on the table, all he desires is me."  
  
Joseph looked like he wanted to protest, but Pierce stepped forward.  
  
"If it is Prince Barnes he chooses,"  
  
"If you don't wish to insult me, you should call me by my title earned. I am a warlord, Advisor, and this is _my_ Omega." Steve wriggled in his arms a little, pressing his face into James’ chest. James held him a little closer, baring his teeth in a feral looking expression, "Any Alpha that deems themselves brave enough to contest my claim are more than welcome to. My sister will take your complaints into consideration after she removes your heads from your shoulders."  
  
Pierce swallowed and Joseph looked slightly pale, "If it is Warlord Barnes he chooses, then it shall be done. I would say a feast shall be prepared, but given the circumstances, it will have to wait."  
  
James didn't even wait for him to finish, the Omega guard, Clint he believed, taking point and leading them up the stairs and down the halls, away from the throne room and the ballroom and practically in a tower. In fact, it was in a tower, stuck in the back half of the castle and up a spiral staircase, Clint led him to a worn wooden door and pushed it open.   
  
Inside was a large rounded room with a wide four-poster bed piled high with comfortable looking pillows and blankets and there were thin-looking curtains that could be drawn to hide the bed that were pulled open near the head of the bed. There was a side table with drawers and a chest at the foot, both ornate and beautifully painted. A little ways away was a folding partition where the edge of a tub and, what looked to be a garderobe and a basin of water with a small lion's head fountain out of the wall that dripped water at a steady pace. There was a wardrobe and four rounded windows at about waist height and were slightly taller than James was at their apex, wooden shutters painted in flowers and stars blocking the moonlight for now and curtains were parted to show the painted wood.   
  
James took a look around the room, frowning. "This is your room?"  
  
"Don't like it?" Steve asked breathlessly.   
  
"It's…nice, but seems,"  
  
"Like a prison?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Steve snorted, "Dear ol' dad didn't like that I turned out to be an Omega, so he had my bedroom moved up here so I couldn't stink up the place with my Heats."  
  
"I want to chew him up and spit him out. Pierce too," James said bluntly and Clint laughed and James startled a bit.  
  
"I forgot you were here," he admitted at Clint's puzzled expression.   
  
"I get it, you're distracted," Clint waved him off, "I'll be at the base of the stairs to guard, I'll send for food and bring it up when it arrives. There's a bell if you need anything else. During this time, his attendants are Betas."  
  
"I'll be at the base of the stairs with him," Natasha said at the door and Clint jumped a bit this time. "You did say I was the complaints department," she shrugged.  
  
"Aye, I did," James nodded and strode to the bed to lay Steve in his nest.   
  
"We'll leave you to it, brother," Natasha hummed then turned and walked out the door and Clint followed.   
  
"Help me out of this dress," Steve demanded, pushing himself up.  
  
James blinked at him, taking in the wide skirt with hesitation and replied, "how?"  
  
"The clasps at the back will undo the skirt," he said and then lifted a hand, "help me stand."  
  
The dress wasn't all that complicated. The clasp loosened the skirt enough for Steve to step out, the miles of filler underneath came off in simple move and the back of the dress was simple clasps that undid the beading and allowed Steve to get free. James draped it on the chest at the foot of the bed as Steve crawled back into his nest in just a pair of thin shorts that were soaked at the back, his wings twitching and delicately twitching, fluttering and spreading his scent throughout the room.   
  
Nose flaring at the scent of flowers and honey and spice, James stood at the foot of the bed, hands behind his back and black eyes focused on Steve alone.   
  
"Do you wish me to stay?"  
  
"Wha-what?"  
  
James gestured to the door with one hand, "I can leave if you like."  
  
"_No,_" Steve whined, "Alpha, why would you leave me? Am… am I not worthy?"  
  
"_Sokroviche, nyet_," James replied softly, soothingly with that rumbling purr dancing in the air and Steve, on the bed, relaxed slightly, "I do not wish you to be clouded with Heat and do something you may regret."  
  
"I told them that I chose you as my mate," Steve said and while his voice was breathy and slurring, it held every bit of Steve Rogers' fire, "you said that I was_ yours. _I don't see the problem here except you're over there and I'm over here."  
  
"I take one mate, Steve. One. There's no harem, no whores, no romps in the hay with people of my clan. I take one mate for life and while I'm sure I want it to be you, I need you to be sure."  
  
"James, I am as sure as the sun rises in the sky every single day and the moon calls the tide. I want you to be my Alpha, as the prophecy told it to be true, you are my dragon and I want to be yours."  
  
Steve had about three seconds to breathe before his senses were being invaded by the Alpha dragon, his lips on his own, claiming and rough and yet gentle all at once. His wings were unfurled and flaring, blocking the gentle firefight from the hearth beside the bedside table from them both, silver hand keeping his full weight from landing on top of the delicate fairy. The scent that nearly overpowered the heady honey and spice of his Heat scent was all power, metal, which could be either blood or from the blades of choice, and smoke and...something else, something sweet that Steve hadn't noticed before.  
  
It smelled almost like a hydrangea bush in full bloom. Splashed in blood and smoking lazily but not on fire. The idea was kind of absurd.   
  
Steve arched upward against the firm chest, feeling the scratch of the leather and the scrape of the belts holding the little stiletto blades at his hips, it feels almost too much for his sensitive skin. He starts tugging at the pauldrons on James' shoulders, somehow finding the buckles and undoing them.   
  
James laughed into his mouth and seemed to take the hint, sitting up and standing at the side of the bed. His eyes lingered on Steve as he undid the silver-painted pauldron on the right side and then the buckles holding the leather chest piece on. His wings tucked back into their plating for a moment as he took the piece off and dumped them on top of Steve's ball gown, then unfurl as he undid the double belts and the fur wrap attached to the golden medallion belt. They, too, get piled on top of the other clothing and then all James has are a pair of loose-fitting pants that look made of animal skin as he pulled his boots off.  
  
On the bed, Steve writhed, hand dragging down to blatantly palm himself through the loose shorts that end up being cursed at and then promptly thrown across the room and then James is faced with miles of pale skin and fluttering wings, a slim, small cock with a purple head and glistening thighs.   
  
James wanted to eat Steve alive.  
  
While Steve fought with his shorts, James had rid of his pants and crawled up onto the bed, bracing himself over the thin fairy and kissing him again, passion and purpose fueling it as his flesh hand fluttered down Steve's front, past his twitching cock and between his cheeks, where the skin was wet with slick and Steve moaned brokenly.  
  
"Alpha," Steve whimpered, "James."  
  
"Call me Bucky, sweetness," the dragon murmured, "I'm not the Warlord at the moment, I'm just Bucky,"  
  
"B-Bucky? What kinda name is that?"  
  
The Dragonborn laughed softly and pressed his finger against Steve's loose hole and it gave easily against the gentle pressure. Steve _wailed_ and writhed, tossing his head back and exposing the pale column of his throat.  
  
"I'll tell you when you're sober," he finally said when he got to the second knuckle, curling his finger and causing another wrecked noise to fall from Steve's mouth.   
  
Bucky prepared Steve in gentle motions while Steve writhed under him, crying out and_ begging_ for his - _his - _Alpha to just take him, to make the heat go _away_. Bucky was drowning in it all, his own erection brushing Steve's knee and making a low grumbling groaning noise down deep in his throat as he mouthed at Steve's exposed throat, scraping his sharp fangs against the pale skin.  
  
"Almost ready for me, sweetness, pretty thing, _Sokroviche_," he breathed, "do you want my knot, my bite, my pup in that slim little belly?"  
  
Steve moaned in response, nodding his head like his life depended on it, rocking his hips back against the fingers as they curled and twisted and stretched. He went to pull his fingers free when Steve arched under him, grinding his hips back on the thick fingers, pale wings fluttering as the little Omega came in such a way Bucky almost worried about him passing out. Clear semen shot over Steve's belly and chest, and he shuddered through the aftershocks while Bucky watched him carefully.  
  
"You all right?" He asked softly and Steve hummed, rocked his hips back against Bucky's fingers.  
  
"Still want you, Alpha," he said and how could Bucky argue with that?   
  
"You wanna present for me, pretty thing?" The Alpha asked, pulling his fingers free.   
  
"No," Steve replied after thinking a moment and Bucky chuckled softly.  
  
"Maybe next time?"  
  
Steve hummed, nodded, "maybe next time."  
  
Bucky smiled gently down at the fairy, whose wings looked slightly uncomfortable but he didn't seem to mind, rocking his hips into nothing while he lifted his arms above his head and stretched out. He shuffled closer on his knees, wings arching in a broad display while his tail twitched like a pleased cat, pressing his cock against Steve's entrance and gently pressing in.   
  
Steve moaned softly, arms surging up and gripping Bucky's forearms, nails biting into his skin as the dragon rolled his hips in measured strokes, out an inch, in for two until he was fully seated save for the knot already swelling at the base of his cock.   
  
"Thought you'd never end," Steve whimpered, lifting his head and looking down like he could see their joining point.   
  
"All in except for my knot, sweetness," said Bucky.   
  
"How much more is that?"  
  
"Another two inches?" Bucky guessed.   
  
"How _big_ are you?"  
  
"Eight inches altogether, I believe, same as my stiletto," he grinned at Steve's whine.  
  
"You're gonna tear me in half," the blond whimpered.   
  
"Never," the dragon assured, "I could never hurt my sweet treasure."  
  
"Well, I don't want to hurt you but you need to hurry up and _move._"  
  
"Yes, Omega mine," Bucky whispered, leaning down and kissing under Steve's jaw. He pulled his hips back and rocked forward and they both moaned at the feeling.  
  
The slow pace didn't last long, the brief moment of lucidness for Steve was over and, while he was still bossy, he was begging all over again. Bucky couldn't deny Steve if he wanted to, he didn't but that's not the point, following _harder, Alpha, pleasepleaseplease…_ and the breathless moans and demands as his knot started its telltale swell. He ground hard against Steve, and Steve groaned like he was dying as it pushed past his rim.  
  
"Its okay, flower, it's okay, shh, sweetness," he purred, kissing Steve until his lips were pink, his scent sweet and beautiful, his whole body tight as a cord, "You'll get my knot, my bite, my Bond. Half my life is yours, my treasure, my City is yours. All of me, yours." He pledged in response to Steve's slurred begging, mouthing down his neck and sealing his mouth over the spot at the base of his neck where the muscle flowed into the shoulder. Steve's back bowed as he dragged his tongue across it, shattering apart with a wail the great stars themselves heard. Bucky growled sharply as Steve clenched down on his cock, his own pleasure exploding at the base of his spine as his knot flared wide and he bit down on Steve's throat and he shuddered, grinding his hips forward and _oh_, so that's what it's like.   
  
Steve's pleasure, like an after effect, echoed through him and his own poured into Steve, pulled another orgasm from the thin Omega while his cock throbbed and pleasure coursed through him like a livewire. He ground his hips forward, sinking his fangs in just slightly deeper and Steve whined brokenly, blunt nails scratching at his skin while Bucky did his best to fill his Omega up.   
  
He came and came, growling under his breath with every ragged intake of air, grinding his hips and each movement caused Steve to whine and whimper.  
  
"Are you _still-"_ Steve started to ask but cut himself off when Bucky ground forward again, his whine high and reedy, "too much, Alpha, too much."  
  
Steve went limp when Bucky pulled his teeth free, whimpering softly now that the high of orgasm faded and he could feel the pain in his neck. Bucky hummed softly, seemingly pleased with himself, using the flat of his tongue to lap up the blood - he got pretty deep with his bite, it was bleeding in a steady thrum dripping back onto the bedclothes.  
  
"Pretty thing," Bucky hummed, nuzzling his jaw with his nose, "my treasure, my Omega."  
  
"Your Omega is getting kind of uncomfortable here," Steve sniffed, hitting Bucky in the head softly with a limp hand and Bucky snorted softly, cupping his Omega's butt with his left and sliding his other arm under Steve's back, lifting him gently. Steve whined softly as the knot tugged at his rim, but Bucky shifted, turned and leaned back against the grand headboard and the pile of feather pillows and keeping the little Omega against his chest. The gossamer wings twitched and fluttered gently, though were drooped down as Steve nuzzled into Bucky's throat.   
  
"Will the Bond take," Bucky asked quietly, "being on your shoulder like that?"  
  
Steve reached up lazily and touched the bite, then shrugged, "My glands are on the back of my neck, so a true Bond bite will need to be there."  
  
"Is that why you didn't present?" Steve nodded, still keeping his face hidden, and Bucky hummed gently, a rumbling purr rolling through his chest. "Do you not want to Bond?"  
  
"I'll admit I was scared to, I didn't know how you'd treat me during the first wave. I certainly don't know how you treat Omegas in your City."  
  
"With the respect they deserve. Omegas are trained to fight and they ride with their Alphas. They command battles if needed, make calls, and after, sometimes, they fall into a Battle Heat and their Alpha claims them again and again."  
  
"Your customs are very bloody," Steve muttered.   
  
"We're dragon blooded, my fairy, brutal and bloody is in our bones."  
  
Steve hummed softly, snuggling close, the purr relaxing him into a state of calm and quiet.  
  
A knock sounded at the door, strong and Bucky snarled, bared his teeth in case it was rival Alpha coming to contest his claim. He hadn't Bonded with Steve yet, someone could still take him if they desired. He couldn't smell anything over their combined scents, the stink of sweat and sex and hormones and through the door, it was hard to tell anything.  
  
The door creaked open and the sweet scent of the wood elf drifted in and Steve hummed, lifted his head.   
  
"It's Clint," Steve murmured and the growl lessened.  
  
"Enter, slowly," Bucky said sharply and Steve could feel the claw tips on his skin.   
  
"I come in peace and I bring food," Clint announced while he stepped in, eyes firmly closed, "Steve's Heats can get pretty bad, he needs all the food he can get."  
  
"Thanks, Clint. How's the complaint department?" Steve asked, and hummed as he twitched his hips and Bucky ground up.   
  
"Bored, but treating me nice," and when he turned there was a decent-sized hickey right under his jaw. Steve snickered softly into Bucky's shoulder. Bucky grinned toothily.  
  
"Now I'll know why anybody comes in. My guards are busy with each other," Bucky rumbled.  
  
Clint set the tray of goodies on the side table, overflowing with fruits and bread and two jugs of liquid. Steve lifted his head and eyed it all, licking his lips.  
  
"Do you want something, pretty thing?" Bucky rumbled and Steve nodded, nuzzling his nose against the meeting place between scale and skin. Bucky pretended not to let it show how much the simple action bothered him, tried to smile as he reached over and picked up a piece of bread and tore it in half. He bit into one half, holding it there in his teeth and tore the other half into another half and held one piece at Steve the level of Steve's lips when he straightened out to take. He did, after a shy glance through his lashes and Clint watched them closely before nodding, satisfied and leaving the room, closing the door behind him.   
  
Steve chewed slowly, and Bucky hummed as he chewed on his piece, hips twitching and grinding up as Steve rolled his hips just a bit. Steve looked droopy-eyed and sleepy, lethargic for the moment, content on his Alpha's knot, being hand-fed and pet with the flesh and blood hand down his flanks. His wings fluttered gently, like a stretch almost and he tucked himself under Bucky's chin, opening his mouth in a question for more bread. Bucky fed the piece to him, took his half-eaten piece and tore it in half, eating one side with a single swallow and rubbing Steve's back in gentle movements, humming softly.   
  
"So good to me Alpha," Steve murmured, nuzzling the ugly seam between scale and flesh, "feels so good with you inside."  
  
Bucky rumbled softly, purring low in his chest, silver claws carding through Steve's hair. He leaned his head back against the headboard, looking out around the room, content with the knowledge that he found his Star-Chosen mate, that his mate wanted him here. They could face the King when his mate's heat died away, could stand tall and declare nothing would break them apart. Half of Bucky's long life was Steve's, they'd live to see their children grow and their grandchildren and they'd fight for each other no matter what came.   
  
As he drifted to a light doze, he swore he heard a whisper to watch the horizon, to fear the beast cloaked in magic and shadow, the man with the false face and the whispered lies and half-truths.   
  
There was darkness coming, Bucky knew that, but his fire burned hot and bright and he'd burn it all to chase the shadows away.   
  
The Hydra's poison ran deep and deadly but a dragon's fire burned eternal.  
  
_With the dragon and the princeling mated and married, the Hydra with claws like swords and teeth dripping with liquid death rises and breathes deep the smoke, and grins, for he is the undoing of them all._

**Author's Note:**

> Sokroviche, nyet = Treasure, no
> 
> ~~
> 
> Hey, thanks for reading! This was cooked up based off my idea of a part of a roleplay I had been playing with. This is what I've been doing instead of working on my other fics.


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